


Fullfilment

by Valaena_the_Historyteller1



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gold Sickness (Tolkien), Minor Celebrían/Elrond, Other, Out of Character Elrond, Silmarils, The Arkenstone is Bad News, The Arkenstone is a Silmaril
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28140894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valaena_the_Historyteller1/pseuds/Valaena_the_Historyteller1
Summary: The Arkenstone appeared in the Kingdom of Erebor and Thror invited all of his allies to see his treasure. A treasure that Thranduil saw once before in the neck of his King. He warns the dwarf king, but isn´t listened, so he writes a letter to someone who would be interested. And he was very interested... because in this dark hours he needed something back to give him strenght. So Elrond set off on his own with the goal to fullfil the Oath of Fëanor and recover his father... or at least dissapear the Silmaril that is turning the dwarf king´s mind.
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel & Maglor | Makalaurë, Elrond Peredhel & Thranduil
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

“Isn´t it magnificent?” asked Thror, showing his new acquisition to the Aran Thranduil. This one closed his eyes a bit, a distant memory springing back to life in front of his eyes. The Arkenstone, the dwarfs called it, but he had a better name for it: danger. The same danger that once had shone in King Thingol´s, his own kin and king´s, hand while he planned what to do with it. The same he held when he went to his death in the city of Nogrod and handed the crown to Dior. The same they said shone on Lady Elwing´s neck the day the kinslayers came for her in the Mouths of Sirion.

“You should get rid of that thing” he said, covering his eyes. The elveking didn´t know what to make out of that jewel, but there was something he was sure about: it had to go. That it disappeared in the bowels of the earth along with the kinslayer Maedhros Feanorion ages ago was the best thing that happened. It should be gone again.

“Getting rid of the most precious gem the mountain ever gifted us?” asked Thrain, not understanding. All the visitors became enthralled with the jewel just by seeing it and that elf was suggesting that they should toss it to the garbage just because it was too pretty? “This is the treasure of the crown, the heart of the mountain! We would be crazy to toss off a jewel like this!!”

“You have the work of a mad elf over your throne, a stone that sent lots of our kin to Mandos due to the insanity it created… that caused the fall of many cities” for a second Doriath crossed his mind. The city of the great Elu Thingol, completely destroyed because of that stone and the kinslayers. “You will do us all a favour if you return it to the deeps from where it never should have emerged from!”

“Father, this elf is just envious…”

“No, King Thror, I´m merely giving you a warning” the silver haired man said before turning around. “I have seen great kingdoms fall because of those things. it wouldn´t surprise me if another one has the same destiny because of that jewel.”

“Envious as I said” Thranduil completely ignored the dwarf prince´s words in favour of escaping the place before the light of the trees from Valinor could enthral him too. It had captivated his attention once, back in Doriath, when the necklace his king died for was presented to his successor, Dior Eluchil. The shine of the precious jewel drove the eyes of all the elves in the room towards the half elf, amazement and envy for equal. So much that more than one person tried to kill the new king to steal it before the Feanorians arrived. Thranduil wasn´t going to risk that kind of attention.

“Elvenking” a gruff voice got him out of his thoughts.

“Prince Thorin” he answered, recognizing the young dwarf from another visit to Erebor, followed by an older one that has probably been a warrior in his prime, now long past. “I was expecting to see you in the throne room.”

“And I was expecting not to receive envious words from an ally” the prince accused, staring at him with seriousness. “Do you want my grandfather´s jewel for yourself so much?”

“I would prefer a spider or a poisonous snake” answered the woodsland king. “Take my advice while you are still on time or you will end up having a similar fate. Fëanor´s work has never brought happiness to anyone. Not even his own sons.”

“Fëanor… I have heard that name before. Isn´t it the name of a famous smith of your people? Surely you are not implying the Arkenstone is one his jewels, no?” they glared at each other. “You elves seemed to believe everything great is due to your abilities. You certainly cannot resist bragging about your abilities…” he smiled, the dwarf behind him alarmed. “Good day, king Thranduil. Come to visit us soon if you feel the urge to see it again.”

“I will, soon enough”

“Let´s go, Balin” the ancient dwarf didn´t follow his order, staying behind to see the elvenking go. Before Thranduil got out of Erebor, the old thing guided him to a secluded room, probably only used by guards not on duty. It was currently deserted, so it was the perfect place to talk about things that shouldn´t reach other´s ears.

“I believe we need to talk, aran Thranduil” he sighed before inviting the king to sit, finding himself a place in front of the other in the table. “You said you have seen great kingdoms of the elvendom fall become of this madness inducing jewel.”

“So you believe me”

“Aran, I have seen my king´s mind deteriorating quickly with the gold disease, more so since that accursed stone arrived to his hands. He can´t just stop seeing it” Balin coughed, clearing his throat. “It´s safe to assume that the quick advance of the sickness is due that thing, so tell me” he breathed in once. “What is the Arkenstone?”

“It´s called a Silmaril by my people. The deranged elf that made them was born in Aman, across the sea, Fëanor was his name. A renowned genius and smith, he went too far to prove his ability and captured the light of the Trees in his jewels. He made three of those things and since their creation war raved the realm” the elf stared at the dwarf, trying to keep the memories at bay. “Morgoth stole them and murdered Fëanor´s father. He promised revenge and, along with his seven sons, swore a terrible Oath that caused three kinslayings, wars and finally a tragic end to his children.”

“Driven them all to insanity, no?”

“In some way. Five died horrible deaths, one committed suicide because of the anguish and the last one… no one really knows. He mysteriously disappeared after throwing the thing into the sea. The only thing all people are sure of is that he was completely insane by the time he disappeared. Some people claimed they have seen him in the last Era, haunting the seashore and singing his desperation to the sea.”

“I see” Baling pulled his beard, more and more worried each passing second with Thror and his brood. “How did one of them ended up in our mountain?”

“I can´t be sure but… I am nearly sure it´s Maedhros Feanorion´s Silmaril”

“Maedhros Feanorion?”

“After the War of Wrath, Maedhros Feanorion jumped into a chasm of fire to his death with his cursed stone in hand” he rolled his eyes. “Many called it justice, that the kinslayer became his own last victim. But after his death, no one heard about it anymore, considering it lost under the earth.”

“Until we dig it out here in Erebor” the old dwarf cursed, putting his fingers in a fist. “The rivers of fire under the earth must have been the ones that brought the accursed jewel to our home, to poison our king´s and princes´ mind.”

“I don´t know why it ended up here, but I already lost a home to it and have no intention of suffering that again. Whatever Thror and his brood do with it, they have been already warned, so it would not be my problem if they end up like the kings who previously owned Fëanor´s work.” He stood up, ready to leave. Balin did the same, a worried expression on his face. He couldn´t believe what he was about to say. It was treasonous, but… it could be the only way to end this.

“Aran…” he stopped the elf before he could reach the door. “if you want to make one of those things disappear, what would you need to do?”

“To do something like that, or even to stole it, you would need someone crazy or desperate enough to dare to get close to it knowing what it is” Thranduil said, crossing his arms. “A Feanorian, for the lack of another description.”

“Didn´t you say that there are no more Feanorians in the world? That all of them found miserable ends?”

“I´m not entirely sure about the death of the last one but… there might be one person in Arda still interested in those cursed jewels. The next best option after the Feanorians to do the work.” He was suddenly very interested. “I should write to him. It would be interesting to see the reaction he has seeing his dear father´s treasure again.”

“Would you do that?”

“I´m not sure how he is going to answer, so don´t make yourself too much illusions” the silver haired elf got up. “But if someone could be interested in stealing the Silmarils, he is on the top of the list.”

“I would be very grateful if you do” Thranduil nodded, secretly hoping that the outcome would be worth the time he was investing in it. Of course, contacting HIM could be as much a loss of time as trying to get Thror to renounce the stone, but, on the other side, the elf in question has been known for more than an Age as one of the few living beings that still hold a certain amount of love for the sons of Fëanor. Of course, he used to be part of a pair of twins that had that certain characteristic, but the other one died hundredths of years ago, leaving only him to care for the lost minstrel.

The Lord of Imladrys, Elrond Peredhel. 

Thranduil stopped on his tracks for a second when that name came to his mind, remembering his first encounter with the descendant of his king. When he and his father heard that Elu Thingol´s great grandchildren had been rescued by king Gil Galad, they had rushed to meet them. By the time they were released from Feanorian care, Elrond and Elros were already in their late teens and not very social thanks to the abandonment they suffered at the hands of their foster fathers. They were also very loyal to their captors, to the point of not allowing anyone to speak ill of them in their presence. The two also tended to talk only in quenya out of spite against the other elves and utterly refused to part with the few heirlooms they had of the criminals that snatched them away. The peredhil also took in the remaining followers of the Feanorians when Maedhros and Maglor finally met their ends… or whatever happened to the second kinslayer.

Anyway, that was not his problem anymore. Elrond was not his Lord, he was king of his own Realm and if he informed the half elf of the re-emergence of the Silmarils, it was out of loyalty, but because of the friendship they cultivated over the years. He wondered what he was going to say in his letter, if he should mention Maglor Feanorion or not, but, in the end, he decided to keep it simple. And send some regards too, to make it casual. Yes, that would work just fine, keep it casual so the peredhel didn´t do something rash. He would hate if he lost a friend to the dwarves.

He stopped for a second after beginning with the letter how would Elrond take it, after practically losing everything to those jewels. His great ancestor, his grandparents, birth parents, foster parents, uncles of all kind… Would he storm into Erebor, demanding for Thrór and his brood to return the silmaril? Or would he leave it where it was, trying to forget the pain those things inflicted on his fëa? Humm, that was highly unlikely. The Lord knew the dangers of those things, he won´t leave them unchecked. Besides, as the “son” of Maedhros and Maglor and heir of Elu Thingol, he was the undisputed legal owner of the stone and entitled to ask for it back. Which, knowing how horrible fate it could bring, he undoubtedly would.

“At least this will be interesting” he commented as he began to write in Sindarin, as he always did despite his friend´s insistence that he used his favourite tongue for personal letters. Elrond could love his quenya all he wanted, but the day Thranduil learned that awful tongue would be the day Laurelin and Telperion shone again on those lands.

-Days later-

“Did you call us, Lord Elrond?” Erestor asked as he approached along with Glorfindel. The Lord of Imladrys was thoughtful, perhaps even sad. He hasn´t seen this kind of expression since last summer, during a visit to the Shipwright. When he came across a very known person by the sea… no, he wasn´t going to go there.

“Thranduil sent me a letter, it arrived just this morning” explained the peredhel, handing it over. Glorfindel got it first. His expressions changed from rage to worry really fast, this last one directed to his Lord. Erestor was the next. His reaction was just the same. This… this was impossible. Lord Maedhros took that damn jewel with him to the tomb, it would be preposterous for it to appear again right now. “I was wondering if… if I should… go claim it… for… for… or leave it there…”

“I highly advice against claiming it, my lord” the golden haired elf tried to dissuade Elrond. He knew how much Maglor´s state affected him, along with his bad luck trying to catch the mad elf, but he could see it was the grieving son thinking there, not the elf lord Elrond should be in that moment. It wasn´t good. “Even Lord Maedhros wanted you far away from those things. I think Lord Maglor would want the same…”

“But they are gone, both of them, even if in different ways” the half elf said in the same sad tone, his hands gripping the edge of his table hard. His reunion with Makalaurë hit him hard, specially because none of his mind healing methods worked. Or would have worked, had he managed to catch the Feanorian. “Wonder if they found Maitmo´s body too, whatever it´s left of it. Maybe I can give him a proper burial, finally.”

“It wasn´t mentioned by Thranduil” the steward said, wondering if he should agree or disagree with his lord. As a former feanorian loyalist, and more as a former member of Maglor´s household, he felt it treasonous to leave his lord to suffer, specially when there was something they could do, but Elrond… he promised Maglor that he would protect the peredhel twins and he can´t let him take this risk. “Lord Elrond…”

“I want to be left alone, thank you”

“My lord, if you would mind a few words” the golden elf talked with a calmed voice. “I know that what happened to Lord Maglor hurts you, but he wouldn´t want you to risk your life and mind for that dammed rock.”

“Glorfindel, I know that you want to help, but right now I want to be left alone”

“As you wish, my lord” the two retired, looking at each other. They would have to watch Elrond carefully the next couple of days, the little ones too if it goes into their heads to cheer their father up by stealing the damn rock.  
Elrond, for his part, was thinking hard. The last time he saw his father… oh, he didn´t want to think about it, the demented and destroyed husk that remained of his gentle father was not something he wanted to remember. And the Silmaril, Maitimo´s Silmaril… the thought of someone disturbing his father´s resting place and removing the treasure he gave so much for made his blood boil. The Oath bind them to those accursed rocks… and unbinding Maglor to them could be the key to return him to sanity. He bit his lip until he drew blood. Unbinding Maglor… collect all three of the rocks, then putting them in his possession. That was impossible… or was it? No one ever tried.

“What should I do?” the peredhel asked to the portrait of Celebrian he kept in his study. It has been more than a year that she left, but the pain was still fresh in his heart. As fresh as an open wound. “What would you want me to do?”

He knew what she would have wanted. His silver queen would admonish him for going away to hunt ghosts and leaving her children alone when they were still shaken by their mother´s sudden depart to Aman. But, at the same time, she would have understood that seeing someone so beloved as his father in that state would open old wounds that never really closed. And that, right now, he needed him. He needed the comfort that only a parent could provide and, as he could barely remember Elwing and Eärendil and lost Maedhros to Mandos, Maglor would be the only one in Arda that could provide him that. She would understand… or that is what he hoped for.

Because he had reached his decision. Even before the tragedy of her capture happened, before Imladrys and even before even meeting Gil Galad. A decision he took when two young peredhil saw the tool the dammed Oath took on their beloved parents and promised to help them. It was not an Oath, Elros and him would never take one, but… they meant it. Really meant it. And now it was his change to achieve it.

Elrond exited his study and walked to his room, noticing two shadows trailing him. Well, no matter. They wouldn´t know how to stop him. The half elf closed the door to his private rooms and opened a chest. He hadn´t opened it since Númenor´s downfall, but right now it seemed like a good time to do it. The lord had more of them anyway. He picked up one of the changes of clothes inside. It was not his favourite colour pattern, but it would have to do. Thankfully, Celebrian fixed this particular set of clothes for him, as the former owner was taller than him. He quickly dressed himself in them and put over them a dark cloak. He unbraided his hair, then arranged it into a simple ponytail and looked at himself in the mirror. Like this, he looked like a mixture of Maedhros and Maglor, specially with the star of Fëanor stitched to his clothes.

“Well, here goes nothing” he said before walking to his window and climbing down the building. Normally, even in those clothes, he would walk down the stairs, but with Glorfindel and Erestor following him everywhere to stop him from stealing the Silmaril.

Wouldn´t it be more simple to simply asking for it? You are the legal owner after all- a voice that sounded a lot like Celebrian asked. He could practically see her saying that, arms crossed at seeing her husband trying to imitate his brash brother.

“That would cause too many political problems and probably a war with the dwarves” he answered as he walked away from his house, hoping everything would be alright during his trip. Well, he was leaving Vilya and a note behind, so everything should be alright, no?

If you think Elladan and Elrohir are remotely ready…

Go, bro, go!! – Celebrian´s voice was silenced by Elros, who sounded as cheerful as when he almost killed them as elflings when he propelled them down the stairs of Amon Ereb´s highest tower in a sled. 

Elrond groaned, putting a hand over his eyes. He was truly becoming mad now.

-Later-

“He escaped?” Erestor asked, standing near the twins.

“He escaped” Glorfindel finally answered, practically collapsing into a chair. “What in Mandos is he thinking? He is the Lord of Imladrys, he can´t just leave like that.” The councillor looked at the ceiling, sighing deeply. And thinking. “Are you not going to say anything?”

“It´s just that… this is so unlike him” finally the raven commented. “If it were Lord Elros, I would believe it in a second, but Lord Elrond was always the smart, careful twin. He would never do something like that…”

“Yeah, uncle Elros used to call Ada the boring when we visited Númenor” Elladan finally said, slipping Vilya on his finger before his brother could call dibs on it. “Guess he won´t be doing that when they reunite anymore.”

“No” the two older elves sighed again. They would go chase Elrond, but with Imladrys in the hands of Elladan and Elrohir… well, the younger peredhil would need their help more than their father. And the elves of Imladrys too.


	2. Chapter 2

Elrond was in the tallest place he could think of, breathing tiredly as he glared at the nocturnal sky. What a great idea, just standing there and scream at a star that was thousands of feet over him. No wonder no one was answering. He meant, when has Eärendil ever answered to him? Never. Not when he asked him to stay as a babe (Elwing commented about it once), not when he and Elros called for him in Sirion, not when he was pleading at him to hand the Silmaril so Maedhros and Maglor would be free, so the redhead wouldn´t have to die… he could go on for hours about the times Eärendil utterly ignored…

“My son, I have come” he raised his head, not believing himself. But there it was, the Vingilote in all it´s might, descending from the sky with the Evening Star himself on board. “I heard about the tragedies that haunted you recently and decided to come…”

“About time you appear, don´t you think?” the raven peredhel glared at his birth father, who got startled by his tone. Elrond himself was startled too, he didn´t want to sound so mean to the elf who could help him, but he couldn´t help but being angry with Eärendil. “I called for you thousands of times…”

“Yonya, please hear me out…”

“When we were attacked, when they were suffering, when Elros died” he continued without managing to contain his tongue. “You have ignored me every time I needed you and even when I wanted to tell you what was really in my mind…”

“Yonya…”

“And you know, it didn´t matter. It didn´t matter because I got two incredible elves that filled the emptiness you left behind” the blond was taken aback. He has never been talked to like that and he thought… he thought his sons would understand… “But right now, right now I need your help more than anything, so I´m calling dibs.”

“Calling… dibs?”

“Maybe you haven´t noticed, Ada dear, but you owe me” the Lord of Imladrys continued, finally getting a hold of his emotions. “Losing Celebrian, even if it wasn´t permanent… it had teared a hole in my soul. I need… I need someone that would help me, like… like a parent. To lend me strength.”

“That´s why I have come, you need me…”

“Do I? Will you stay instead of going off with your flying boat, back to being the unreachable Evening Star?” the older peredhil froze. He couldn´t promise that he would stay, it was impossible. He had his duties and Elwing on the other side of the sea. But… “Oh, don´t worry, I never really expected you too. Only to pay back the debt you had with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you left, Elros and I were left without a father. Someone came and filled that void, but we lost them too. Now I want him back, to do what you obviously cannot” he crossed his arms. “And you know how, no? Help me recover my father and we are even.”

“No” his hand flew to his head. “Valar, everything but that.”

“Why? Because you are afraid he won´t be returning it?”

“I know he won´t, greedy for it as he is…”

“He will if I ask him to”

“You are putting too much faith in a kinslayer, yonya”

“And you too little in ME” Elrond glared at his parent again. “Trust me with this, I wouldn´t do it if I wasn´t completely sure of my capability to return the silmaril to you. Besides, I already told you, you owe me a father. Are you really going to deny that to me now that I really need one permanently by my side?”

Eärendil tried to say no, but found in his heart that he couldn´t. Not when he was so right. He had abandoned Elrond and Elros willingly to go search for Aman and his parents when he should have stayed for his sons. He might be hailed a hero in the Blessed and Marred Realms, but he failed in what should have been the most important goal in his life. He shouldn´t be surprised that another already filled the place he left vacant. Or that his sons hate him.

“I pray that you are right” the star said as he pulled the circlet with the silmaril from his head. “And... if it still matters, I´m sorry that I wasn´t the best of parents. I thought that you and your brother would understand… but I already see that it was too naïve to think like that” he sighed. “Sorry I made you hate me.”

“I don´t hate you” Elrond answered, surprising Eärendil. “I just… have problems seeing you as a parent, as I didn´t really have memories of you. And Maitimo and Makalaurë… our first encounter was not the best, but they were so kind and caring after that… once we overcome our fears, it was difficult not to get attached. Both ways. After that, suddenly, they have filled the void you left behind.”

“Yonya…”

“I don´t hate you, Eärendil, really, but you missed most of my childhood and weren´t there for me. They were” the healer continued, putting the circlet on his bag. “It´s difficult to recognize someone as a father when you don´t know him and he doesn´t know you, don´t you think? Specially when someone else already had that job.”

“I…” as ever, there was no excuse. “That´s fair, I think.”

“And, if it makes you feel better, I have nothing against cultivating a relationship with you” the star quickly raised his head in surprise. “When we are both in Valinor, where you can spend a prolonged period of time, we might sit down and have another conversation. Preferably with Nana accompanying me.”

“That sounds great” he wasn´t really on speaking terms with Elwing since she abandoned the twins, but… they were working on patching things up. Hopefully, when their son arrived, they would have fixed it.

Elrond watched as the boat and Evenstar rose to the skies again, back to Valinor, and sighed. Eärendil was depressed, yes, but he would get over it. He had to. Besides, he also had hope, so he wouldn´t remain like that for more than a few minutes. Well, the younger peredhel doesn’t have time to worry about that, he had a mission to accomplish. Spurned by his victory, he ran to the seashore and started to scream and hurl insults in quenya at Ulmo, hoping to catch his attention… and not get cursed, of course. He wasn´t mad, he didn´t want to drown or end up in Mandos because of a shipwreck when he finally Sailed.

“Hey, hey, what a nice little mouth you have” a maia suddenly appeared in the surface of the water. It was Ossë. The part maia lord glared at him, but the other only yawned. “You know that was not the smartest move, no?”

“I didn´t know how else to catch the attention of Lord Ulmo so I could ask for the Silmaril back” the raven said with an annoyed frown. “I was not even sure someone was going to show up. Or that he was going to hand it to me so I can recover my kinslaying father.”

“Well, you were wrong in both things” the spirit then presented him with a shinning stone much like the one he currently had in his bag. “You are very lucky for dealing with one of the few selected Valar that want the Feanorian´s punishment to end. So, in the end, if you also want to recover the other one…”

“I´m not sailing yet”

“Suit yourself, but I was told by Námo to extend the offer. He also said that his doors are open for you whenever you want” he snickered. “Your adoptive family has a way to make themselves annoying, you know?”

“Annoying?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yes! Why do you think Lord Ulmo is handing the stone so easily? The wanderer one is fucking annoying!!” the maia said with an annoyed tone. “Haunting the seashores, always singing the same son no matter what age or millennia it is… it got to our nerves in the Second Age. And that boyfriend of your other father´s, the one that is constantly pestering Námo to have him back…”

“I get it” he couldn´t believe his luck, things have never been so easy. It was almost scary. And couldn´t last long. “I will try my best to snap him out of that state and take him back to Imladrys.”

“Great, finally a little bit of silence here!!” Ossë said, preparing himself to sink again. “Remember to give it back when you are finished, we would get into a problem with Manwë if you don´t.”

“Yes, tell Lord Ulmo I thank him” Elrond walked away from the seashore. 

Once he was far away from the seashore, he sighed and pulled out his hunting knife. It was one of the few heirlooms he had of Maedhros, who in turn got it from his father. It was a real piece of art, with a perfect blade that reflected the face of the peredhel almost like a mirror. It made him aware of how desperate he actually looked. And that wasn´t a good sign. Far from it, actually.

While his hare brained plans seemed to be working, it was not going to be the same with the last stone he needed to recover. Elros in his place would have barged in Erebor and demanded the jewel in a very Feanorian way, arms flashing, and probably gotten himself killed by the angry dwarves or something idiotic like that. In fact, the voice in his head that sounded like him was encouraging him to do something like that… but he was not his twin, no matter how much they looked like one another. And, for this mission, he needed the plans conscious, smart Elrond was known for having; not the Elros brashness that would get him killed.

A plan he should begin to form now. So he sat down on the floor and started to write. He knew how to get to the Lonely Mountain, that was not a problem, but, dammit, he didn´t have a map of Erebor to help him planning. According to Thranduil´s letter, Maitimo´s silmaril was right over the king´s throne, illuminating all the room, but he couldn´t be certain of whatever place in the entire city it was. He would have to infiltrate to get the information he wanted… and that was going to be a problem, because he didn´t see many elves wanting to stay in a dwarf kingdom. Elrond was on the small size for a noldor elf, but he knew that his size would attract attention. Was there other way to get the information?

Apparently not, because he ended up having to crawl into the place via a dirty ventilation duct barely big enough to fit an elf. And once inside, he pulled the hood of his cloak to cover himself and tried to mix with the darkness inside the mountain. Not an easy task, considering that he was considerably bigger than any inhabitant of the place. More reasons to get out of the place sooner than later.

“Well, time to find the palace” 

-A few days later-

“Stupid, rock throne” Elrond grunted between teeth as he tried to break the silmaril free with his knife. Dammit, he was so mad that he sounded like Elros again. Fantastic. “Come out, I need you to do only one thing for me…” cling! It finally came out. Triumphant, Elrond grabbed it and showed it into his bag with the rest of them. Finally, finally he made it. He fulfilled the Oath! And without shedding a single drop of elven blood. Now he only had to go to…

“Something is wrong in the chamber of the king!!” he heard one of the guards said. Cursing, the elf ran to the other side of the room, hoping that there was a door he could exit from the place before the dwarves caught him. Unfortunately for him, there wasn´t, so he only could hide in the dark.

“What is it?” another, sleepy dwarf asked when the guard barged into the chamber. Elrond moved in the edges of the room, hoping his cloak would keep him camouflaged with the shadows of the poorly illuminated room.

“There!! The Arkenstone is gone!!” one of them yelled, finally giving the alarm. The elven lord was closer to the door now, he only needed a few more meters… “Quickly!! Wake up the king and princes!! The thief couldn´t have gone far, sent search parties!! Every hole in Erebor must be searched for the criminal!!”

“Yes, sir!!” the elven lord took that as his que to leave. Risking being seen by the soldiers, he dashed for the door. He had bad luck, as the last guards in the room saw him. They sounded the alarm, but he was faster. As a precaution, he closed the doors to the throne room and barred them from the outside. Grabbing his bag for dear life, he dashed towards his little vent duct and started climbing.

“Damn dwarves, damn mountains, damn ventilation ducts so hard to climb” he cursed as he cut himself and nearly fall as he dragged himself to freedom. “Hope this snaps Makalaurë of his damn trance, because if not…”

While Elrond was cursing and escaping, Thror and his brood arrived at the throne room. The king´s eyes went big when he found that his greatest treasure has been stolen right in his men´s nose. He started screaming and demanding that whoever stole it hand it back, accusing each of his guards of being the thief. Meanwhile, Thorin and his father began interrogating the witnesses. 

“An elf, you said?” Thrain said after talking with the captain who was in charge of the security of the Throne room that night. “You said it was tall, but tallness doesn´t necessarily made it an elf. Can´t it be a man?”

“We saw it move, your highness, and there was no way a man could move that way. It had to be one of those damned pointy eared sissies.”

“Not so sissy anymore” Thorin joined the conversation, crossing his arms. “Aran Thranduil and his committee were here a couple of weeks ago and saw the Arkenstone. They also mentioned something about it being an elven jewel” his frown deepened. “Could it have been one of his soldiers?”

“I wouldn´t place bets on that, but…” the captain lowered his voice. “Balin had a conversation with the Woodlands King after he said those lies about the Arkenstone. I didn´t listen much, but the elf said that there was someone of his own that might be interested.”

“Yes?” Thrain was now more interested himself. “Maybe it is a good time for me to visit the Mirkwood” he turned to his son. “Thorin, I want you to take some soldiers and track the elf´s movements. There must be traces of his presence somewhere. This woodlands sprites aren´t in their element down here.”

“I will do so” the prince bowed before setting off with a squad. They quickly found one of the ventilation ducts with a stain of fresh blood. “He went through here”

-A few days later- 

“Atto… atto, where are you?!” Elrond called as he walked down the shores, hoping that Maglor was somewhere near. He was starting to get desperate, as the wanderer seemed to be anywhere but near. And him… he needed to find him now. He was running out of supplies, carrying three unbelievable dangerous stones in his bag, being chased by a squad of dwarves… the last thing he needed was to search in all the shores of Middle Earth for his missing father. “Atto…”

A sweet music started to sound in the air, sorrowful and sad, catching Elrond´s attention immediately. This voice… he knew this voice. It used to sing him lullabies each night when he was younger. Guided by the sound, he dashed to the origin of the voice. And there he found him, in the same state as before. Maglor Feanorion in all his destroyed glory, still walking, still singing, still… paying. Even after Ages.

“Atto” the younger elf called. It startled the demented singer, nearly making him run like the last time. But Elrond stayed where he was and, slowly, opened his bag. The shine of the silmarils caught the ancient kinslayer´s eyes. “Atto, I´m Elrond, do you remember me?” the other didn´t show any sign of recognition, but his eyes didn´t leave the stones. “I brought you something.”

The Feanorian made some sounds that hardly sounded like words, but again, didn´t try to leave. It gave his son hopes. The peredhil, confident that this was going to work, approached him. He took the silmarils out and carefully put the stones in his father´s hands. The burned one made him wince, ready to take them away if Maglor got burned again… but nothing happened. 

“Atto… Atto, please, wake up. Please, I need you…” nothing. “Please…”

“Elrond?” the ancient kinslayer finally said. The younger elf raised his head, his eyes wide. He couldn´t believe it… Maglor, for his part, was confused. Last thing he remembered was that they stole the silmarils and threw his into the sea. Then how… “What…?” he suddenly found himself with his arms full of peredhel. “Ahhh, there there?”

“Welcome back, atto. Welcome back”

Maglor lowered his gaze, only to find the silmarils there. When… what… oh, that child has so much to answer! After a few more minutes of tearful hugging, the two elves finally sat down on the dunes and, with the silmarils by their side, they talked calmly about the events in the Two Ages that Kanno lost wandering down the shores. With no little pain, he found out about Elros death, the sunk of Númenor… and Celebrian´s departure. This left him also a great feeling of guilt. He should have been there. By the Valar, he should have been there, helping his little boy, not playing the lunatic by Ulmo´s domain.

“I can´t say much more than I´m sorry. I should have been there for you, not causing you more pain”

“You are here now, Atto, that´s what matters” the peredhel answered, feeling a little better… Or at least he did until the sounds of a small squad following his trail was caught by the two sensitive ears. “Dammit”

“What?” Maglor asked, surprised, then frowned. Was that culpability what he was seeing in his boy´s face? Yes, it was, he had seen that same expression on Elros identical face thousands of times. “Elrond, what is happening? What did you do?”

“It´s not a kinslaying…” he tried to excuse himself.

“Great to hear, now tell me what it ACTUALLY is” the older demanded in his atar-tone. “NOW, Elrond.”

“I… kinda… stole the silmaril from a dwarf king” he admitted, a little bit ashamed. Maglor was surprised. He did what? “I didn´t have another option, they found it before I and I needed the whole three to help you recover from whatever the Oath was doing to…” suddenly his father was up, having tossed away his own ragged cloak and grabbed Elrond´s. “Atto, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I´m saving you” in one fluid motion, the Feanorion grabbed one of his father´s stones and threw it as hard as he could into the sea. The picked up the one in a circlet and pressed it to Elrond´s hands. “Return this to Eärendil, would you? I will return the last one to the dwarves.”

“Atto…”

“Do it!” he ordered, startling the peredhel a bit. He then sighed and hugged him. “Look, I´m not going to march to my death and abandon you again, not now that you need me, but… we have to do this, okay? The dwarves won´t stop searching until they found the stone and better me than you… but this is not going to be permanent, okay? I will return.”

“You said the same last time.”

“And I returned, didn´t I?” Maglor smiled, turning around to find the squad. “Don´t worry, it takes more than bunch of dwarved to end me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Maglor is free!! Or not so much when Thorin gets a hold of him. Anyway, he is not entranced anymore and would do anything to help his precious "son". As for Eärendil... I always thought that Elrond might have some issues with him and Elwing for abandoning him, but not hate them right away. If one of them has an attitude and refuses to listen to reason, as in my other fics, he might, but in this... I don´t believe so. The annoyed Valar was a last minute inspiration, hope you liked it too!! And what is going to happen to Maglor in the next chapter? someone guess? Review!!!


	3. Chapter 3

“It was one of yours!! You sent one of your elves to steal my Arkenstone, the greatest treasure the Mountain ever gave us!!” Thror screamed, looking more and more like a madman. Meanwhile, Thranduil was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He knew exactly who did this… or at least was very certain of someone´s culpability. And it might or might not be his fault. “I know it was you!!”

“And why are you so certain that it was me?” the elvenking said in a very calm voice. The dwarf couldn´t prove anything and even if he could, he would cause a political mess if he tried something. “I have come like an ally and friend of your kingdom when you demanded my presence as if I was a mere subject, despite me being a King of my own Realm. I have only come to defend myself against such vile accusations…”

“Father!!” Thrain entered the Throne Room with Thorin on his back. The younger prince held the Arkenstone on his hands. “My son recovered your Crown Gem, as promised. He also captured the thief that dared to commit such a heinous act against the King under the Mountain.”

“My dear grandson, such a hero at such a young age” the old dwarf gave his descendant a big smile, his eyes landing not on the boy but in the jewel on his hands. “The recovery of our precious treasure calls for a celebration. But tell me, who was the thief of the Arkenstone?”

“An elf, like the guards said. I brought him in for questioning” Thranduil raised an eyebrow. Elrond was caught? He knew the elvenlord won´t mention anything about his letter, but he was worried about his friend. Worried about what a gold sick dwarf would do to him if he was caught with the silmaril in hand. “Here he is”

They dragged in a tall elf who was wearing a rags under a cloak. Dark, matted hair peeked from under the hook. The king of the Mirkwood relaxed, Elrond has always been on the small side for an elf and this one was tall for them. It was not his friend. They pulled the hood down, revealing a face he hadn´t seen in Ages. A face that used to haunt him in his nightmares when he first escaped a kinslaying with his father.

“Just look at this, Maglor Feanorion” the elvenking said.

“I knew it!! I knew it was one of yours!!”

“Not at all. In fact, it´s the opposite” the silver haired sinda shrugged his shoulders. “He is an ancient kinslayer, a figure of nightmare long gone for my people. And the last son of the smith that created that beautiful stone you treasure so much.”

“The Arkenstone is no Elven Creation!!” Thror screamed. “It´s s gift of the Mountain to the Greatest Kingdom of Erebor!! It´s own heart!!” he glared at the chained elf. “You, talk!! Why did you dare to steal the Jewel of the King?”

“Because… it´s Atar´s creation and we had to get them back. All of them” Maglor´s voice was raspy thanks to all the time spent as an insane wanderer singer, but it still contained a trace of his commanding tone. And power. “Need to achieve what they all died trying…”

“You insolent elf!!” the dwarf king now looked more crazed than the matted Feanorion. In fact, he was ready to pack a punch at the kinslayer, but stopped. And smiled wickedly at the weakened elder before turning to his ally. “And this is a figure of nightmare for your people, Thranduil? It seems it takes too little to gain your fear.”

“Totally the contrary again, Thror” the mentioned elf answered, keeping his cool. “This elf here is guilty of four Kinslayings, three of them massacres of the cities of Alqualondë, Doriath and Sirion. All for the jewels his accursed father created.”

“Humm, judged guilty by his own race, eh? Then you won´t mind if I throw him into prison, where he belongs.” He made a sign and the soldiers dragged the ancient being away, to the darkest dungeon under the mountain.

“Not at all, but… there might be someone that does” he said. When Elrond actually heard that his kinslayer of a father landed himself in a dwarf prison, he was going to come himself to bother Thranduil so he could be introduced to Thror and recover him. And will probably throw a tantrum while doing so. “If you don´t mind, I have had enough of this for now. I will return to my Woods.”

“Go, who needs you here” he turned to his son and grandson. “I want to celebrate with my family the Return of the Arkenstone.”

Thranduil shook his head. That the Silmaril was returned to him was nothing to celebrate. In fact, it could only mean more trouble for their Realm. And the Feanorion… he wouldn´t be surprised if tomorrow the dwarven king and his family all woke up with their throats cut up. Anyway, that wasn´t his problem, so the elvenking returned to his Realm. He also gave orders to prepare for the arrival of Lord Elrond, who would surely appear soon. He sipped dorwinion while waiting, hoping that whatever the cursed jewel attracted next won´t be as bad as the last.

-A few days later-

“I couldn´t believe it when Lord Ulmo told me” Eärendil said when he received his circlet back. The stone in the centre shone as ever, something he hadn´t missed at all. “Did he really returned the Silmarils without a fight?”

“Yes, as I said he would. For my sake” the younger peredhel said, remembering how safe he felt in the Feanorian´s embrace the short time they were together and the fear when Maglor was taken away from him by the dwarves. “He even gave himself to the dwarves so they wouldn´t pursue me.”

“Are you sure…”

“They have their thief and jewel that way, there is no need to investigate more” the Lord of Imladrys bit his lip. “I… I can´t tarry long, I need to go to Erebor to plead for Makalaurë´s release…” he continued, rubbing his arms. It was his entire fault that his adoptive father was in such a problem, if he had thought things more thoroughly… “I have to go”

“I know” the star smiled. He didn´t know or want to believe it at first, but, in the end, his sons ended up in very good hands. Despite those hands being that of kinslayers. Wich added a bit to the ache, at the same time that it soothed his worried. “Were you… talking seriously? When you said that you were willing to forma relationship with us? Despite of everything?”

“Of course… if you don´t mind sharing with two Feanorions”

“It´s a small price to pay to fix things with my son” the blond smiled as he placed the circlet on his brow. “The question is if they are willing to do that.”

“Makalaurë always told me that I should listen to your side of the history and bury the battle axe. In fact, he actively encouraged me to seek a bond with you and Nana when I saw you again.”

“Very… kind on his part” Eärendil pushed his hair out of his eyes. He hated how that thing always pushed it over his vision, essentially blinding him. “I hope your quest will be successful. Truly. May Manwë guide your words so the dwarf king listens to you.”

“Thank you. Good bye”

“Good bye”

Elrond was actually feeling better with himself after he left the cliff. The silmarils won´t cause more problems where they were, the dammed stones disappeared from his life, Makalaurë was free, he was going to have support during this damn time… if he ever got his atto back from that dwarf. Anyway, things seemed to be going along for once in his life. Or at least that’s what he thought until he met Thranduil in his Halls. 

“For the love of the…” the king said when he first saw him, dressed in Maglor´s old clothes and sporting the star of Fëanor proudly. “Can you change your clothes in my presence? To many people here those things are an insult.”

“I´m aware, but I don´t have other clothes” he crossed his arms. “And, considering you were ready for my arrival, you already know what I am doing here.”

“Yes” he rolled his eyes. “I was there when Thror threw your beloved kinslayer in the deepest prison beneath the mountain. So, do you want me to introduce you to the dwarf king so you could demand Maglor Feanorion´s freedom?”

“I am willing to negotiate with him some terms for my father´s freedom too” the half elf said. “They are going to be handsome terms, hope he sees them that way.”

“Thror was a reasonable king until that damn jewel appeared. Now, nothing short of another one like that could make him see reason. He was enthralled by his treasure, as it sometimes happens to people who dares to ambition too much” the silver haired elf rolled his eyes. “The dwarves have a name for that kind of condition, gold sickness. Or Silmaril sickness in his case, because that´s the one piece he won´t lose for the world.”

“I know that one” he sighed. “Was that why you wrote to me? I didn´t think you cared so much for a dwarf kingdom and it´s mentally addled king.”

“I do not” Thranduil stated, pouring some wine for his friend. “I wrote you that letter because I thought you would be interested in the stone. Besides, the concern of some of his subjects for their king” he added remembering poor Balin. “By the way, you surely impressed the king with your poorly planned schemes. Are you sure you aren´t Elros?”

“Stop joking about that and let´s go to meet the King under the Mountain. I haven´t worked so hard to get my father back only for him to spend the next few millennia in a dirty dungeon under a rock.”

“In my opinion, that is exactly where he belongs, but as that would only anger you” the glare from the peredhel amused the sinda even more. “Well, if you want, I will introduce you to him tomorrow, when you have calmed a little bit.”

“Tomorrow? The Valar know what would have happened to Makalaurë then”

“Thror is Gold Sick, not a Nazgul” Thranduil said, feeling already tired of this conversation. “And what are you going to do, eh? Imitate your deceased brother and barge into Erebor´s Throne Room and demand for them to hand the kinslayer back? I really thought you were smarter than that.”

“Shut up, I just want to go back to Imladrys before Glorfindel…”

“My king” a redheaded nís entered. “Lord Glorfindel of Gondolin has arrived with a contingent of Imladrim elves.”

“Does that” Elrond groaned. He really wanted to avoid that, but apparently he ran out of time. He, after all, knew that Erestor and the golden lord won´t wait forever and sooner or later would sent someone after him, but he was expecting to have more time. Thranduil, for his part, smiled wickedly.

“Guess news of your reckless actions travel fast” he made a sign and let the golden elf walk in. Laurefindil raised an eyebrow at seeing the great grandson of his king dressed in full Feanorian regalia, but didn´t say anything. And, after a brief debriefing, he also showed surprised.

“So you actually managed to snap him from that state” only for Maglor to land himself into another problem, but that was no bothersome for him. “And now he has landed himself in a dungeon, a mess that was actually your fault and not his.” He clapped sarcastically. “Congratulations.”

“I don´t have time for sarcasm, Glorfindel, I need to fix this before Makalaurë spends the next millennia in a cage under that Mountain”

“Well…” in his opinion, the Feanorian deserved that and more, but he was not going to tell that to Elrond´s face.   
“But wait until tomorrow, as King Thranduil suggests. One night to calm yourself down won´t hurt.”

“But…”

“The Kinslayer had been in worse situations than this, surely he can survive a whole night without getting himself killed by dwarves.”

Without much option, the peredhel accepted. He went to sleep that night, trying to refresh himself… only to be woken up the next day by a flapping of wings that he was sure came out of his own nightmares. He ran to the balcony of his room when all the alarms in the Mirkwood were sounded, but thankfully the beast ignored the elven realm in favour of a much more interesting place.

“Did you see that, my lord?” Glorfindel asked when he intruded into his room. “That was a dragon. I thought they were all extinct!!”

“And it gets better” Elrond answered, grabbing the set of clothes Thranduil have lend him. “It is flying towards Erebor.”

-In the Lonely Mountain-

Maglor was carefully picking the lock of his cell with a bone that used to be part of the dinner the dwarves sent to him that night. It was very dark inside of Thror´s dungeons, but that didn´t bother him. Elves could see very well in the darkness and he had been in worse places than this during the First Age campaigns. Besides, if someone really think that metal bars and a troupe of dwarves were going to stop him from going back to his son, they should think that again. Finally, a click was heard and the Feanorian walked free. 

“Thanks, Maedhros” he whispered as he threw the bone away. “Your lessons about dungeon escapes really paid off after all.” 

Satisfied, he walked to the entrance. He waited until the guards entered to check on the prisoners and, snatching the key ring, he walked out, locking them in. He pulled the hood over his head, trying to conceal himself the same way Elrond did when entering the place. Maybe that way he might find a way out of there…

“DRAGON!!” the whole mountain shook at the sound of that word.

Or maybe he should just run for the closest exit before he had a reminder of the First Age. The dwarves, hopefully, would be too worried trying to fight for their home against something much stronger than them to notice their prisoner slipping through the same gap thousands of their own were fleeing through. In his way to the exit he saw an old dwarf warrior, who also saw him. They stopped for a moment before he moved his head.

“That way” Balin signalled. His plan hadn´t worked out like he wanted, but now it didn´t matter. The dragon would keep his king and princes well away from the Arkenstone.

Maglor nodded with his head in thanks and ran out of the mountain with hundredths of dwarves. His size made him noticeable… at least until they entered Dale, where edain got mixed in. Now he only had to keep his hood down and his eyes low and everything would be fine…

“HELP!!” he heard the prince that captured him, Thorin, screaming at a troupe of sinda and sylvan elves, guided by the regal figure of King Thranduil. The Feanorian felt the need to roll his eyes when he saw the Woodlands king, who in their right mind presented himself in battle on a moose? He didn´t have much time to ponder, as he was dragged to the side by a very angry Glorfindel.

“What were you doing? I have been searching for you through all of Dale!!” the blond said, practically dragging the older elf out of the city and view. “Lord Elrond is beyond himself with worry. He nearly ran into the dragon´s lair to search for you!!”

“He didn´t…”

“Of course not!! But no thanks to you!!” Laurefindil said in an annoyed tone, still treating the Feanorian rather roughly. Then sighed. “Look, I know you don´t have a good opinion of yourself, something that you share with a lot of people, including me, but it´s not the same case with Lord Elrond. He loves you… only for that, you should learn to take a better care of yourself.”

“I will for his sake” he couldn´t deny anything to Elrond.

“Good, that will stop those hare brained attitudes he has been showing lately”

“Hare brained? What… what happened while I was by the seashore? Apart from stealing a silmaril from an obsessed dwarf king, of course.”

“Why don´t you ask him yourself?” Glorfindel finished the conversation, as they had already reached his party of guards. Elrond, who until then has been on the tip of his feet, happily hugged his father. Now they could leave this accursed place.

“Elrond, yonya, I´m very glad to finally be with you, but…” Maglor suddenly talked when they set course to Imladrys. “what were you doing while chasing the silmarils…”

“Ahhh… well…” an uncomfortable tale later, accompanied by the mental pictures of a reprobating, highly amused Celebrian and a laughing Elros, the peredhel lowered his head with a little bit of shame.

“Woow” Makalaurë finally said with true amazement. And not of the good kind. “You really… Are you sure that you are Elrond? Because what you are telling me is so worthy of brash little Elros that…”

“Yes, I have heard the same from a few people”

“Well, you should, because trying to imitate your brother is not the best course of action. Remember when he almost killed the two of you sledding down the stairs of Amon Ereb?” admonished the Feanorian. “I… I know I´m a lot at fault for this and that it worked fine, but it can easily change if you didn´t think things though. So promise me you will never do something like that again.”

“Of course” the peredhel answered. “From now on, I will leave hare brained plans to my brother´s descendants and my sons.”

“Glad to… wait, sons? You didn´t mention that you had ones.”

-A few weeks later-

“Ro!! They went through here!!” Elladan screamed, spurring his horse to chase a big band of orcs… to big for the two peredhil brats that were currently hunting them. Maglor followed close behind, sweating, having dashed out of Imladrys as soon as he noticed that the twins were not in their lessons.

“Two Elroses, wonderful” he said to himself as he chased his wayward grandsons, hoping they had not reached the orcs before he arrived. “Well, a least I will be able to repay Elrond for all the time I was absent by babysitting his children. And it beats doing the taxes with Erestor.”

Meanwhile, Elrond was doing some paperwork, wondering how much time it will take his father to drag the twins back this time. He was calm despite the danger, sure that they were safe if Maglor was with them. And, as no lock seemed to stop them since Celebrian´s departure, letting them blow some steam was apparently the only way to keep them in control.

“Lord Makalaurë didn´t appear to help me with the taxes” Erestor said, entering the study with papers in his hands. “Did the twins escape again?”

“It seems so” he offered the other a seat. “How about I help you until he shows up? Couldn´t take him more than a few hours…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Welcome to the last chapter of this little fic, hope you enjoyed it. I wasn thinking about making a small oneshot about Maglor seeing Thorin again when the Company arrive to Imladrys, but that will be a proyect for later. If you want to leave some ideas, review!!

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a very short fic, two or three chapters at much. Just something that came up my mind as I tried to write Adopted´s next chapter. Got some suggestions? Review!!


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